


Swift Streams

by Krystalarrow



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:58:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9724841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalarrow/pseuds/Krystalarrow
Summary: Wineheda: First thought is that they get stuck on their own camping/surviving together because that half an episode with a gorilla wasn't enough.They can eat a freakin smokie if that pleases youKrystalarrow: YASSSSSSS I like it let's do it.~~I don't know where this is going but it'll be slow burn and there'll be a lot of digressions if I know myself at all. I'm committed to somebody being chased by bees, and no doubt someone will make the monumental mistake of lending a squirrel their pocket knife.I'm not allowed to use the word 'moist', so... we're all missing out there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So far it's just fishing and Lexa enjoying teh natures. Clarke will arrive when she's good and ready.

You never know what’s going to happen when you step out into the great unknown. Sure, there’s a fair bit you can count on: insects, dirt and sweat, probably sunburn. But Lexa knew from experience that the plans she had when she packed the car invariably fell away with the sounds of the city as she zoomed toward the mountains.

Camping was a regular escape for Lexa, something she needed in order to feel herself. It didn’t really matter what she did or where she went, just as long as she had a handful of days outdoors a few times a year. When she moved to the city for college she started making it a regular thing; knowing that if she didn’t, the whirlwind of responsibilities, social pressures and life in general would gradually wear away the person she wanted to be. Too many people were out of tune, so they drank, medicated, had flings, retail therapy, actual therapy, trying to make themselves happy. They tried to find happiness without really understanding what was missing. Lexa knew that nature wasn’t everyone’s solution. But for her, it was. She had a hiking pack and a week’s worth of supplies. She was going to make the most of it.

She pulled into the trail head car park with about two hours of daylight left and decided she’d best hit the track straight away if she was going to get to her camping spot before dark. She noticed there were a few more cars than she’d hoped for and wondered if most of them were heading to the popular hot springs up the ridge track. She squished her feet into her robust, leather hiking boots and laced them up tight. She was looking forward to having the sidle track along the river mostly to herself, though she usually ran into a cross-country runner or two. If the hot springs campsite filled up too much they’d start venturing out in search of less-beaten tracks, and while she wasn’t opposed to a little company, Lexa didn’t think the owners of the scratched up vintage GM van with beer cans littered around the side door were the kind of company she was looking for.

Deciding it would be what it would be, she slipped on a light jacket; as the wind had picked up, then had a quick last check in the outside pockets of her pack. First aid kit, toilet paper, compass, map, lighter, pocketknife; all the necessities. She turned her pack around, resting it on the edge of the trunk and squatted down to slip her arms into the straps. It was too heavy really, but she only had an hour’s walk tonight and in a few days time she would be glad of all the food she’d packed.

Five minutes down the track, the wind dropped down as the trees began to envelop her. Sun broke through the columns of evergreen pine and fall-yellowed larch in streaks upon the dusty earth and Lexa took a deep breath, unzipping her jacket and pushing the sleeves up as the first incline started to warm her. She crested the rise and smiled as she heard the first echoes of the river in the distance, like the sound of some far away crowd endlessly cheering. She picked up her pace and gradually the river grew louder. 

This river was one of her favorites, with it’s deep boulder runs and crystal clear waters it was perfect for fishing. The riverbed was pebbly gravel and bedrock, which made it reasonably easy to wade through. One of her favorite things to do was work her way upstream for a mile or two with a packed lunch and her fly rod, hoping to outsmart a trout and bring it back to the campfire for dinner. 

As Lexa kept walking, she began to remember the first time her cousin Anya had taken her to a river and put a smaller version of her own fly rod in her hand. 

 

Lexa was about eight years old and Anya was sixteen; the age where most teenagers would be full of their own plans and overflowing social lives. But Anya loved her like a sister and always took the time to talk to her and teach her things - not just the fun and easy lessons, but the ones that are hard to learn as well. 

Lexa remembered watching Anya on the river, tall and strong, gracefully stalking the fish, she knew just what to do and where to cast her fly. Anya caught fish after fish that day, and while Lexa did exactly as Anya told her, mimicking her hand motions, listening carefully to everything she said, even following Anya’s path through the river, she couldn’t catch a single one. Lexa had been so determined to catch a fish that day on the river that she kept trying for hours, doggedly continuing to fish upstream even after Anya had stopped for lunch on the riverbank. She remembered Anya chuckling and shaking her head condescendingly, the way adults do so carelessly to children. She vividly remembered the feeling of her stomach growling while her arm ached from the effort. When Anya finally found her again she was sitting on a rock throwing pebbles at the far bank, her rod abandoned on the grass, its line a tangled mess of nylon. She’d tried for half an hour to untangle the line after the wind had tied it in impossible knots, but eventually she gave up. She had wanted so much to catch a fish, to show Anya that she was clever and capable, but she had failed.

Anya sat down next to her and offered her a juice box from her backpack. 

“I just want to be as good at fishing as you are, Anya.” Lexa said with a hitch in her voice as she gratefully took the juice box from Anya’s outstretched hand. “ I tried so hard, as hard as I could! Because I know you taught me never to give up. But I just can’t do it.” 

Anya stared at the river silently for a while, then shucked off the damp canvas bag she had over her shoulder. She opened it up to reveal two beautiful big rainbow trout and three of the smaller brook trout, and looked up to Lexa, perched on her rock “Do you wish your bag looked like this one?”

“You know I do, I just told you.” Lexa frowned and looked away, cheeks burning with shame.

Anya ignored her. “Do you know how many times I’ve been fishing in my life?” she asked, standing up and taking the bag to the river. “Do you know how many tangled lines I’ve had to cut and throw away? How many rivers I’ve fallen in and how many fish I’ve seen and spooked, and how many times I’ve walked home empty-handed?” Anya asked, as she dunked the bag in the river to dampen it so the fish stayed fresh in the cool canvas. 

The straw of Lexa’s juice box popped out of her mouth.

Anya walked back to the bank and picked up Lexa’s rod, manipulating the tangled line to see if it was salvageable. “You have tenacity kid, you have a stronger drive than I’ve ever seen in someone your age…” she looked across at Lexa and frowned slightly, “no, not just someone your age.. in anyone.” 

Lexa put her empty juice box in her backpack and looked back up at Anya, who was still watching her curiously.

Anya grabbed the line cutter at her belt and used it to snip Lexa’s fly free and hook it into her fishing vest for safekeeping. “When I was your age I’d been fishing for two years with my dad. In the summer, he’d take me to a grassy field a few nights a week after we’d finished dinner and get me doing casting practice. I’d spend an hour or more with a piece of wool instead of a fly, casting my line to markers he’d set out on the grass. He’d count the beat: one, two, forward cast, three, four, back cast. After a summer of that, my line shot thirty feet straight and true, and my wool hit his markers every time. It was only then that I was allowed to come to the river with him.”

Anya paused a moment. “I know why he did it” she said, her fingers working nimbly as she freed the loops of nylon from Lexa’s line. “As soon as I got to the river I knew he’d given me a skill set that would let me hit the ground running. My flies landed where I aimed them, and I could shoot the line fair across the river so I didn’t need to get close to the fish and risk spooking them.”

As Anya looked up from her work Lexa cleared her throat and asked “Did you catch any fish straight away then, because you could cast properly?”

Anya shook her head, “No. It wasn’t until the end of that second summer, when I was about your age that I caught my first fish. A little brook trout, about six inches long, took my fly as it trailed behind me in the water while I walked upstream. A complete accident.” She started reeling Lexa’s line in, having finished untangling it.

Lexa watched her, thinking. “So all those lessons your dad gave you weren’t any good after all.” 

“Sure they were, they gave me a great head start. But I hated them and I missed out on a lot of fun stuff with my friends. I didn’t even really start liking fishing until a few years after that.” She shrugged, “I guess my point is, there’s so much to learn, a lifetime’s worth of tiny things that can make all the difference, or none at all.” 

Anya stood up and put her hand on Lexa’s shoulder. “You’ll learn to fish. Just give it time. Let yourself learn it naturally, gradually. And in the meantime, enjoy your time on the river, out amongst it all. That’s what this is really all about.” She stretched her arms wide and spun around, laughing. “Just look at it!”

Lexa grinned and stood up too, copying Anya’s pose and reaching for the clouds.

“And if all of that isn’t a good enough reason for you to go fishing, then do it to keep me company.” Anya grinned, grabbing Lexa around the middle and scrunching her into a hug. 

Lexa giggled and wrapped her arms tight around her cousin.

“Oh! And make sure you pack a bag of smokies for dinner until you learn to catch your own fish, or you’ll be going hungry!”

Lexa pushed Anya off her, outraged. “What? You’re not going to share any of yours with me?”

Anya laughed and hefted her bag in the air, patting the bottom of it. “Of course I’ll share with you, kid. But after I’ve shown you how, you’re doing the gutting and cleaning. Fair’s fair!”

 

Lexa smiled to herself while she walked down the river trail, remembering fondly all the times she and Anya had fished together since that first day. She’d caught many fish since, and shared her catch with her cousin each time Anya had come up empty. 

Lexa could hear the river roaring now. She was approaching the junction where the trail split, the left path continuing alongside the river, the right path veering straight uphill towards the ridge and hot springs. She walked over the top of a little hill. There it was, in all its glory. Crystal clear and fast flowing, full of all the riffles and pools she’d been waiting for. She smiled and breathed deeply, relishing the last of the warm sun on her face, and jogged down toward the left fork of the trail. 

But as she neared the junction, she saw something move to her right. It was a person sitting on a tree stump, slouched with their back to her, throwing stones and bits of stick in the river. It looked like they were swigging something out of a hip flask. The exuberance left her, to be replaced with wariness and a hint of social anxiety. She wasn’t expecting to see anyone right now, but after a few deep breaths she resigned herself to at least checking if they were okay. She stomped her way down the hill, thinking tonight might not end up as peacefully as she had originally hoped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skaikru shenanigans! Still no clexa. But there's accidental Octaven.. I dunno how that happened. Clexa soon tho

This van was going to explode any second, Clarke thought as she heard another ominous clunking noise. They were trundling along some dodgy gravel forest road in search of… what did Octavia call it again? ‘Liberation of Mind, Body and Soul’? Whatever her reasons, they must have been convincing enough, because now she and five of her friends were on this clearly comprised, goat trail of a road for a weekend camping trip.

Raven cursed from the driver’s seat, “These potholes are ruining my reputation. Hold tight, here’s another lot!”

Clarke gripped the edge of her seat as Raven rocketed over the potholes. “Are you sure the van can take this, Raven?” she yelled over Monty’s exclamations.

“Yeah, you know this is our ticket home again after this insane picnic, right?” Murphy shouted from the back seat, hands braced against the ceiling.

Raven peered up at the rear mirror, laughing aloud as she saw their expressions; Clarke’s brow wrinkled in concern, Murphy and Monty looking ready to jump out. Octavia was relaxed and gazing out the open window though, while Jasper was lazily drinking a beer. He hit play on his iPod and started to sing along. _“Day after day. I will walk and I will play.”_

Raven swerved to avoid the ditch as her eyes came back to the road, “I don’t know what you guys are so worried about. Look,” she said, pointing up ahead, “here’s the car park. Safe as a zero G spitball.” She drifted around the last bend and skidded to a halt, killing the motor but leaving the music playing. They all tumbled out of the van gratefully, but not very gracefully.

 _“Why can’t I get just one kiss, why can’t I get just one kiss.”_ Jasper serenaded Monty, while trying to push a beer into his hand. Monty, still a bit green from the drive, pushed the can away. Jasper dropped to his knees and spread his arms wide as he continued to sing. _“But I look at your pants and I need I need a kiss”_

“Ugh, Jasper!” Monty pushed Jasper’s face away from his groin and Jasper clutched at his heart and made woeful kissy faces at him.

Clarke rolled her eyes, laughing at them despite herself. Octavia yelled “Save it for the tent and give me a hand here you guys!” and started throwing packs out of the trunk on the ground.

Everyone was pulling their boot laces tight and heaving their packs onto their backs, when Raven yelled from under the front of the van, “Mother-Fracking Bastard!” She stood up and came around the side of the van, wiping her oily hands on a rag, “One of those potholes jammed its rim into my oil pan.” she avoided eye contact with the rest of them. “It’s wet. The oil pan, that is.”

“How bad is it? Are we stuck here?” Murphy asked.

Raven sighed. “It’s really flowing. There’s a puddle already. We’ll be bone dry by the time we’re out of the bush if we don’t plug it.”

Jasper started laughing heartily. Octavia dropped her pack and stalked off. Monty ignored them, “We lost cellphone service about thirty miles back.” he said.

Raven looked up at Clarke reluctantly. “Don’t you dare say it, Clarke.”

“I didn’t say a thing. I don’t think I need to, do I?” Clarke crossed her arms and frowned.

“Damn, when you’re pissed you look just like your mother.” Raven threw her rag and Clarke caught it, continuing to stare at Raven with her slightly wrinkled brow and pursed lips.

“Seriously, Clarke. Have mercy, I’m puckered.” Raven said as she walked away to the look in the back of the van.

Clarke frowned harder and turned to Jasper, whose laughter had started to take a bit of a maniacal turn. “Jasper, if you don’t have anything useful to contribute, take a hike.”

“Oh come on, Clarke. Take it easy.” said Monty. “We just have to figure it out”

“No, don’t worry about it Monty! No big deal guys!” Jasper said. He spread his arms wide and backed away, still chuckling to himself. “I’m ready to explore this track anyway.” he patted Monty on the shoulder a little harder than necessary as he turned and walked away, “I’ll save you a spot in the hot spring, bro!”

Clarke sighed, and started to walk after him “Jasper, come back. I don’t think it’s safe... I mean, you don’t need to go off by yourself.” Clarke faltered, “Just wait while we sort this out.”

But Jasper was already stumbling up the track singing to himself. _“Oh, ma-mama, mama-mo-ma-mum. Take a look now at what your boy has done”_

“Let him go,” Octavia said as she walked around the side of the van.

Clarke stopped and turned around to look at her, “What, where have you been Octavia?”

“Saving your sorry asses.” she replied, holding up a roll of something. “Gaffer tape.” She explained. “If we layer it up over the whole area it’ll hold till we can get to a garage.”

Upon hearing this, Raven, who had been bent over rummaging through the wheel bay compartment of the van, pulled out and exclaimed, “Octavia! Come here, you sweet thang, I’m going to kiss you!”

Octavia grinned at the others and sauntered past Raven without a glance. She squatted down to peer under the van, then, finding the right spot, lay on her side and reached up to pull herself under the carriage.

Murphy squinted after her dubiously “Am I the only one wants to know why Octavia has a roll of gaffer tape with her?”

Raven sat on the edge of the van and stretched her hands up above her head, crossing her wrists over one another.  
“Come on, Murphy. Where’s your imagination?” She laughed at the look on his face as she got up and closed the trunk. Peering around the side of the van, she called out “Need any expert mechanical advice under there, Octavia?”

Clarke scoffed, “Raven, I swear, you are the cockiest little bastard. How about locking that van up before you can do any more damage to it, huh?”

Raven laughed as Octavia threw the oily rag at her from under the carriage, and called out “You’re lucky it’s not wrapped in rocks, d-bag!”

Octavia rolled out from under the van and stood up, swiping her hand across her face to get the hair out of her eyes, and giving her cheek a black streak as she did so. Her hair had come a bit loose from her ponytail. “What are you all staring at? Job’s done, let’s hit the track!” She declared and grabbed her pack.

Raven shook her head and shouldered her pack, smiling to herself while Octavia rubbed her oily hands down the front of her tight black jeans. Raven nudged Clarke as she walked past and gestured to Octavia with a tilt of her chin. “Did you see those guns when she pulled herself up from under the van?” she whispered. “I mean, holy shit.”

Before Clarke could reply, Raven was wandering up the track with a sneaky backward glance and a wink at Clarke. Clarke watched her go then looked back at Octavia, who was clipping the chest strap of her pack closed over her tank top. Clarke shook her head and smiled to herself as she followed Raven up the track. “Come on guys, let’s bust a move out of here before we start to lose the light!” The others followed her and they made a line into the trees at a healthy pace. This weekend, Clarke thought as she watched Raven’s ponytail swaying from side to side ahead of her, was going to get interesting.


End file.
